Nothing
by Futago no Seishi
Summary: Yugi dreams: of raw desires, festering hatred, and names long forgotten. Yaoi, Bakura x Yami


**Pairing:** Bakura x Yami  
**Genre:** dark  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or any of the characters, and this piece of fanfiction is for the sole purpose of entertainment.  
**Summary:** Yugi dreams: of raw desires, festering hatred, and names long forgotten.

**Nothing**

Soft chuckling.

He turned his head to see who it was and was met with nothing but the lonely coat hanger dangling off the handle of his bedroom door. His eyes glanced from side to side, searching out shadows in an effort to spot a hiding body, but to no avail. After a moment, he turned back towards his bed, pulling the cool sheets aside and preparing to slip inside.

Then he heard the footsteps.

His heart thumped wildly in his chest, urging his lungs to constrict uncomfortably in panic. The blanket dropped from his fist and he snapped his head around once more, trying to catch the intruder. Again, all that met his eyes were the familiar, comforting curves and shapes of his room.

Just breathe. That was all he needed to do.

Darkness enveloped his vision as he let his eyes slip shut, counting slowly backwards from ten in an effort to calm his panicked body. It was just stress, he convinced himself. He'd been overworked and sleep deprived, and this was merely a side effect of such mental strain.

Ten, inhale. Nine, exhale. Eight, inhale. Seven, exhale.

Six—gasp.

Hands, cool and firm, met the heated skin of his cheeks as a warm mouth pressed against his. He jerked sharply away, an initial, unthinking reaction, but was held firmly in place by the arm that suddenly found its way around the small of his back. A soft tongue slipped in between his surprised lips, probing and violating, and he couldn't help but let out a muffled sound of alarm.

He was becoming faint from lack of air, that unknown mouth robbing him of all his breath. When he was finally released, he took in a harsh lungful, the rush causing a pleasant sense of disorientation. He dug his hands into the broad shoulders across from him for support, and had to wonder for a brief moment when he had even lifted his arms to clutch at his unexpected guest.

That soft chuckling returned and he opened his eyes to stare at the other.

Slanted eyes that appeared obsidian in the darkness of his room met his own through a curtain of pale hair. Silver-plated, he thought for a moment, and reached out a hand to see for himself if it felt as soft as it looked. Indeed it was, like freshly spun silk beneath his fingers, a sharp contrast to the hard smile that curved those kiss-swollen lips.

He had never seen this man before, yet he felt as if he'd met him before. Someplace long ago—and they knew each other well.

Bakura.

The name slipped out of his mouth, feather light upon his breath, and the other leant in to catch the syllables in mid-air and swallow them in the cavern of his own throat.

Their mouths crushed against each other, bruising and violent, and he'd never felt more invigorated. Each nail that dug into the tender flesh of his waist ripped a groan from him, and he bit down upon the other's lip in retaliation. It hurt in the most pleasant way, like a prickling shiver that wound its way down his spine, inflaming all the nerves in its wake. He couldn't get enough; never enough. No matter how hard he sucked at willing flesh, it never seemed to reach that glorious spike of perfection.

Yami.

The name was whispered against his throat like a curse, hot and full of disdain. It caused his insides to curl in the most peculiar way as the other nipped at his neck, little sensations trickling down to feed the heat that lay between his legs.

There was just so much hate, raw and aggressive, and it made him want the other all the more.

Harder, harder, harder, he thought as teeth sunk down against his pulse. He could feel the tendrils of pain lash throughout his system, blooming from the crude incision in his throat, and it just felt so _good,_ he could hardly stand it. He was tugging at long hair, not caring whether he tore the strands from their roots or not, only set on prolonging the intensity, reaching reaching and so so close, and then—

He was gasping, body covered in cold sweat as he stared up at the dark ceiling above him. His limbs were caught in shackles of damp cotton, uncomfortable and foreign, and all he could think about was how the hair that clung to his cheeks with perspiration shouldn't have been his own.

"Mm… Yugi?"

It took him a moment to realize that the name was his own, and he turned his head to stare at sleep-hazy eyes, the chocolate brown deepened with the night that seeped into them. Ryou yawned a bit and reached a hand out to cup his cheek, the touch gentle and strangely unfamiliar. "Bad dream?"

There was a long pause as he stared at his lover before nodding faintly, his throat thick with an emotion he couldn't quite comprehend.

"Yeah," he murmured, shutting his eyes and trying to dispel the feel of sharp teeth against his skin. "It's nothing."


End file.
